Fair and Square
by LizzySong
Summary: Anne notices that Gilbert hasn’t been acting like himself and decides to take care of him. (Takes place a few months after season 2, episode 10, so beware of spoilers if you haven’t finished the season yet!)


**Author's Note: Netflix is adapting one of my childhood favorites and I'm obsessed! So I'm taking requests to write some Shirbert fics because they were my first OTP; I got the request for this one on my tumblr and I thought it was absolutely adorable — hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **Until the next fic!**

 **-LizzySong**

He hadn't seemed quite like himself the entire school day. He was never a particularly rowdy student — he did his work diligently, answered questions from Miss Stacy when addressed, and rarely talked to the other boys during class; partly, Anne was sure, because he didn't particularly enjoy their company.

However, today was different. Gilbert had nearly dozed off several times during the lesson, and when approached by one of the other boys, he'd positively snapped at him. Not that this in particular concerned Anne, as the boy Gilbert had snapped at was Billy, and she had absolutely no sympathy for that particular boy; not after all he had done — especially to Cole.

However, there was no denying the fact that all of this was very unlike the Gilbert Blythe she had come to know over the past months now that they were... well, friends.

This was the reason that she chased after him as he made his way to the Haunted Wood after school, he had a head start as he'd been the first to leave the schoolhouse the moment everyone had been dismissed — something else that was very unlike him as he normally stayed behind for a bit to discuss his plans for the future with Miss Stacy, and ask her for her advice on such matters.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, wait!"

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. "Anne?" he asked in surprise, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! —Or, well nothing to do with me, that is. It's just... are you alright? Because you haven't seemed like yourself today and— What?" She cut herself off as she noticed the small, amused smile playing on Gilbert's lips.

"I'm fine," the boy said in a reassuring voice, "Just tired is all."

She stared at him for a few moments with a quizzical expression. Something about him still didn't seem quite right; he did seem tired, just as he'd said, but there was something else amongst his features that concerned her.

He'd always been pale, but this was different, he was much paler than he should have been — even allowing for the cold of November — and it made the dark circles under his eyes and the unnatural flush of pink in his cheeks stand out more than it normally would have.

"You're ill," Anne said eventually, a somewhat accusing tone to her voice as she reached up and placed her hand on his forehead.

"No," Gilbert said dismissively as he gently pushed Anne's hand away from him, "I told you; I'm fine." He turned and began to walk again, but quickly stopped when he found himself staggering slightly and leaning against a tree for support, a dizzy spell having taken over him for several moments.

Anne rushed over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. "Yes," she said when she was sure he wasn't about to faint, "Because not being able to walk straight is completely fine!"

She realized that, again, he was giving her an amused smile, and she sighed in irritation. "Gilbert Blythe you are positively infuriating. Come," she added as she took his arm and linked it with her own, "You are clearly much too unwell to be left to your devices; I'll help you home."

He gave a half-hearted protest, but quickly gave up as the thought of Anne helping him was a pleasant one. ...And besides, when Anne Shirley-Cuthbert made her mind up about something, there was no changing it.

It was a long walk — longer than it normally would have been due to Gilbert's slower pace, something else that concerned Anne, but it was a pleasant walk all the same.

Eventually they reached Gilbert's home, and upon entering, Anne immediately noticed how still and quiet and, well, cold it was.

"...Where are Bash and Mary?" she asked as she followed Gilbert to the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to him.

"They went to visit Mary's son. They want him to stay here with us for... well I'm not sure how long. I don't think he'll go for it, but Mary wants him to come here so badly..."

Anne nodded sadly and gave him a smile, "I hope they convince him to come."

"Yeah," he returned her smile, "So do I."

They sat quietly for a few long moments when Anne stood up. "Now, you need to change into something more comfortable and warm," she said in a matter-of-fact tone that took Gilbert slightly by surprise, "Then get into bed and rest. I'm going to get a fire started and make some tea."

"Maybe you should be the one studying to be a doctor," Gilbert said with a smile, making Anne blush slightly.

"Gilbert Blythe, don't be ridiculous. I am going to become a teacher; and I hope my students will listen to me better than you do. Now go to bed."

Gilbert slowly stood up and gave Anne a pointed, mischievous smile "Yes, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert."

Anne's eyes widened and she blushed again — a little more pink than before — and Gilbert laughed slightly before leaving the kitchen and retreating to his bedroom.

He changed as quickly as possible, trying to keep the chill of the room from getting to him, and got into his bed. The moment his head hit the pillow he realized just how tired and ill he really felt.

The last time he'd been sick his father was still alive, and the memory made him smile. He had always hated being alone when he wasn't well, so on that day he had opted to stay with his father, who was bedridden himself. It was one of the last days the two had really spent together, without Gilbert gone at school or working the farm, and he wouldn't trade that day with his father for anything.

Still, the thought of his father sick and dying wasn't exactly a welcome one, especially while Gilbert was sick in bed himself...

Anne entered the room several minutes later, cup of tea in hand, and found the boy curled up in bed looking like he was trying to hold back tears. She set the cup on the nightstand and quickly sat on the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Gilbert, what's wrong?" she asked in concern, "Does something hurt?"

"No... no I-I'm fine I just..." he let out a shaky breath as he looked up at Anne who was waiting patiently for him to finish speaking, "I don't want to die like him, Anne."

"Like who?"

"My father. He was sick for so long and I... I don't want to die like that." Tears filled his eyes and he looked so small and frightened; not at all like the Gilbert Blythe that Anne had come to know so well, and it frightened her.

"Oh, Gil," she said softly, using the nickname she reserved only for important occasions as she pulled him up into a tight, reassuring hug, "I promise you, you aren't going to die like that. You've just got a fever, you'll be better in no time."

They sat like that for several long moments with their arms wrapped around each other. The boy's anxious breathing slowed until he finally relaxed, releasing Anne from the hug, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he had when he'd first laid down.

"...Thank you," he said, looking up at the girl through half-closed, glassy eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"For helping me. I know I can be stubborn, but I do appreciate it."

Anne smiled, but shrugged it off all the same, "You're my friend. Of course I'm helping you. —And Marilla often tells me that I am stubborn as a mule, so I'm sure you aren't half as stubborn as I am."

"Are you trying to compete with me?" Gilbert said with a small, playful smile.

"Perhaps."

They both laughed, then Anne noticed how tired Gilbert seemed and quickly stood up. "I should go so you can rest."

"No...!" the boy said, panic showing slightly in his fever-bright eyes, "Please, Anne, I... I don't want—"

The girl sat on the edge of the bed again, just as quickly as she had stood up, and took his hand. "—I understand," she said gently, "I don't like to be alone when I don't feel well either."

This was a lie meant to make him feel better, and he knew it. Anne would not permit anyone to speak to her when she was in the "depths of despair" as she called it — except for perhaps Diana. Still, he appreciated it; especially when she laid next to him and started to tell one of the many stories she was able to create out of thin air.

He drifted into sleep after a short time, dreaming of a certain red-headed Princess Cordelia and a nameless prince who's description had sounded suspiciously like himself.

By the time Gilbert awoke it was dark, though there was a lit oil lamp on his nightstand which illuminated the room. He thought he was alone until he heard a quiet laugh from the doorway and looked up.

"Bash?" he asked as he sat up.

"You still going to tell me that Anne's 'just a friend'?"

"What are you talking about?"

Bash looked pointedly at Gilbert's nightstand and the boy followed his gaze to find his school slate sitting next to the oil lamp with:

I'll be back tomorrow to recount the lessons you miss.

When I beat you I want it to be fair and square.

Love,

Anne

written on it. He smiled and placed the slate back on the small table, then leaned back into his pillows.

"She left you a love note." Bash was positively grinning and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"It is not a love note. She just said that she's going to help me."

"I think that fever cooked your brain, Blythe."

"...How did you know I—"

"Anne."

Gilbert sighed; of course Anne had told Sebastian everything.

"Now how about we get you something to eat? My mother always said there's no ill that some good food can't cure."

The younger of the two smiled and nodded a little. "Yeah," he said as he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the man who had become his family, "I think I could use some Trinidadian Bush Medicine."

Bash laughed a put an arm around the boy's shoulders as he led him to the kitchen. "You still wish you were sick every day?" he asked jokingly and Gilbert rolled his eyes but didn't otherwise respond, trying not to think about the fact that he'd been telling Anne how afraid he was of that very thing only a few hours earlier.

"You were talking in your sleep earlier," Bash said, sensing that he should change the subject. "Who's Cordelia?"

Gilbert could feel heat rushing to his cheeks. "A friend..." he said and Sebastian gave him a look of amused surprise.

"What, another one?"

"...No. Same one." He knew he was blushing furiously now, he just prayed that he could pass it off as part of his fever.

Bash just shook his head in disbelief and laughed a bit as he made his way to the stove, and Gilbert sat at the table, a small, involuntary smile playing on his lips as he thought about the princess Anne Shirley-Cuthbert who had graced him with her friendship.


End file.
